


Common Courtesy

by Celia_and



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alley Sex, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And then they started feeling things, Angst, Banter, Cunnilingus, Dominant Rey, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Explicit Consent, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Hand Jobs, I just wanted to write an orgasm denial one-shot, Minor Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Naked Male Clothed Female, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Public Hand Jobs, Rey & Rose Tico Friendship, Smut, Soft Ben Solo, Speed Dating, Submissive Kylo Ren, Texting, Vaginal Sex, accidental feels, i love them your honor, soft babies, you're gonna suffer but you're gonna be happy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celia_and/pseuds/Celia_and
Summary: “No,” she interjects sharply, and slaps his hand away. “You don’t get to come, Kylo. Do you know why?”“I was an asshole.” Please.“Mm hmm. What else?”----------Kylo cockily makes a bet that he can win over every woman at a speed dating event, and he does.All except one, that is. Andshe’sthe one he falls in love with.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 477
Kudos: 1079





	1. Receptive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elle_reads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_reads/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Элементарная вежливость](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259788) by [Elafira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elafira/pseuds/Elafira)



> A little smutty one-shot for [elle_vee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_vee/pseuds/elle_vee), whose delightful comments ABSOLUTELY made my night. I so hope you enjoy! 😊💛
> 
>  _Edited to add:_ Change of plans! My planning brain intended this as a one-shot, but apparently my writing brain didn’t get the message and left people wanting more. This fic will be continued... 😘

It’s 7 p.m., and Kylo just wants to finish his work for the day. He’s about ten minutes from his goal when Hux lets himself into his office and flops down on the leather couch.

“Close the door on your way out,” Kylo grunts.

Hux ignores him. “Have you ever done speed dating?”

Only half listening, and without looking up from his laptop, Kylo mumbles, “Why would I?”

“I’m thinking about doing it,” Hux muses aloud. “I don’t know if it’s worth it, though.”

“Hmm,” Kylo hums noncommittally, adding a column to his pivot table.

Hux isn’t satisfied. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I’m working.”

“You know, from your general demeanor, one would almost think you didn’t want to talk to me right now.”

“You don’t say?” Right click, show subtotal.

“But that’s obviously ridiculous.” Hux puts his feet up on the couch, reclining against the arm.

 _“Obviously.”_ Format, grey fill.

“Kylo, I’m serious. This is an important decision, with potentially devastating consequences.”

“Mm hmm.” Page layout, set print area.

“What if I go through with it and no one matches with me?”

“Matches?” Print to PDF.

“Imagine the humiliation,” Hux sighs.

Done! “What are you talking about exactly?”

“See, I _knew_ you weren’t listening. I’m signed up for a speed dating thing next week, but I’m thinking about cancelling.”

Kylo shuts his laptop with a snap. “Why?”

“There are twenty women. What if _none_ of them matches with me?”

“I imagine they have some plants who match with everyone to make sure that doesn’t happen. But you’re overlooking the only factor women consider at things like that.”

“What?” Hux perks up.

“You’re tall.”

“Come again?”

“Women always go for tall men. As long as you’re over six feet and can string a sentence together, you’re golden.”

“Oh _really?_ I’m intrigued by this foolproof system you have.”

“I do alright for myself.” It’s an understatement; in Kylo’s experience, he can go to any bar and take home anyone he wants.

“You seem pretty sure about this.”

“Trust me.”

“Okay, if you’re so positive, would you care for a little wager?”

Kylo leans forward. “I’m listening.”

“If any fewer than all twenty women match with me, you owe me the entrance fee. $100.”

“No bet. I can’t vouch for your ability to string a sentence together consistently.”

A grin creeps over Hux’s face. “Then _you_ do it. If _you_ don’t get all twenty women’s numbers at the end of the night, you owe me $100.”

Kylo leans back in his desk chair, considering. “I don’t know. It’s so easy, it seems unfair to you.”

Hux throws a pillow at him. “So is that a yes?”

Kylo stands up and clicks his desk lamp off. “You’re on.”

* * *

“I _need_ you, Rey,” Rose calls from the living room. “Just picture me, awkward and alone, with no friend by my side.”

Rey yells back from the kitchen over the noise of the faucet: “You know how it works, right? The men rotate through everyone? You’re never alone.”

“Think how much better I would feel, though, having you there!”

“It’s interesting that _you’re_ the one who wants this favor and _I’m_ the one doing the dishes,” Rey calls back.

Rose deigns to get up from the couch, and drapes herself dramatically against the doorway. “My future happiness could be at stake.”

“Oh, well in _that_ case...still no.”

“I’ll do all our dishes for a week if you come.”

Rey flicks suds at her. “Nope.”

“A month.”

“Hmmm.” A whole month is worth considering. She scrubs a stubborn spot of dried-on cheese while she thinks about it. “Okay. But only for you.”

Rose shrieks with delight and grabs Rey from behind in a hug, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek.

“Dishes for a month, remember!” Rey laughs. “And I’m not going to match with anyone. I’ll just stiff-upper-lip my way through it and say I didn’t talk to anyone who suited. I won’t even give my real name.”

“But what if you meet someone?”

“I’m pretty positive I’m going to meet twenty people,” she says, rinsing the last dish and setting it to dry.

“You know what I mean!”

“I’m _only_ going for you. Actually, only for the dishes.”

* * *

It’s in a little tucked-away Greek restaurant where the food is probably not very good, given that they’re willing to block off half of their dining room for a speed dating event on a Thursday night. The women cluster near the registration table, and the men stand around self-consciously sizing each other up: literally, in some cases.

“See, what did I tell you,” Kylo hisses. “We’re the tallest ones here, even with the lifts that guy is obviously wearing. Nothing to worry about.”

Hux gulps and nods, looking a little green.

Kylo continues in an undertone, “All the phone numbers you’re about to get should comfort you for the $100 you’re going to lose.”

Before Hux can retort, the overly cheery event coordinator calls the room to order. Each man and woman is assigned a number that matches those on the tables, and there’s some awkward shuffling as everyone takes their assigned spots.

Kylo resigns himself to a tedious evening and turns on the charm.

* * *

Rey signs in as Kira, number twelve. The bell rings and the circus starts and she’s polite, nothing more. Some men are so nervous that it falls entirely on her to limp the conversation along; others seem to have come for the express purpose of listening themselves talk to a captive audience. At one point Rey glances over to where Rose is sitting and finds her engrossed in conversation with a lanky redhead. Judging by their body language, it’s going _very_ well. Rey smiles, then the smile turns into more of a grimace as her current companion compliments her “exotic accent.”

All in all, she’s relieved when the bell rings the signal to switch. She covertly checks her phone under the table as the shuffle commences. Half an hour more. She can do this.

When she looks up, she sees a tall drink of water of a man, who momentarily makes her reconsider her resolution not to match with anyone. Until he starts talking.

* * *

She is dazzling. Everything leaves his mind for a minute – not just the bet, but how to speak to women. How to speak to anyone. Words. He gropes for something, anything, and his brain supplies: “So, what a waste of time, right?”

“Nice opening line, does that usually work for you?”

“Well, considering I’ve never been to one of these before, I can’t tell you.”

“That makes two of us. I’m not quite sure you grasp the concept, though.”

“How so?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell people that their company is a waste of time. Even if that’s how you feel.”

“So you’d rather I be insincere?”

“Let’s call it common courtesy,” she counters.

“I don’t believe in lying. And, in point of fact, I never said _your_ company is a waste of time. Just this whole setup. You can tell within a few seconds whether you’re attracted to someone, why do you need four minutes of conversation after that?” he argues.

“Oh, so you’d rather just put us all in a lineup in numerical order and say, ‘Yep, I’d fuck two, nine, and twelve?’”

“Well I’d be up for a threesome, but nine or twelve seems unmanageable.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“I can’t help but notice that you included _your_ number in that list,” he says, glancing down at the _12_ on the table.

“Was it presumptuous of me?” she shoots back.

“Maybe. But it doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” She doesn’t answer, and they just stare at one another for a long moment, before he adds lowly, “You’re _not_ wrong.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered? Receptive?”

“I didn’t say it to flatter you. I said it because it’s true.”

“And what do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Then I have to agree with you.” His heart leaps momentarily. “This _is_ a waste of time.”

She looks down at the paper provided for her to record whether she wants to match with each person, and very obviously checks “no” next to his name and number. She doesn’t even try to hide it this time when she pulls out her phone, and they sit the rest of the allotted time in silence.

Kylo had never realized how long two minutes could be until he has occasion to spend it questioning how exactly he could’ve fucked up _so_ badly.

* * *

Mercifully, the event draws to a close. Rey enters her twenty “no”s into one of the tablets provided for that purpose, and the overenthusiastic coordinator announces that everyone will get an email in just a few minutes with their matches.

“Remember,” she announces, “you’ll only receive the contact information of the singles who also expressed interest in you! So they’ll be receptive to your call!”

Rey snorts, and covers it up belatedly with a lame cough.

Kylo catches her eye, and she could swear he mouths _common courtesy._ She ignores him.

She catches up with Rose outside. Her roommate wasted zero time and is already getting in a car with the lanky redhead. Rey looks down at her phone and sees a text from Rose: “See you in the morning! 😘” She smiles then sighs and resigns herself to getting a Lyft, since she doesn’t trust the subway alone at this time of night. The app tells her that it’ll be ten minutes until her ride arrives, so she decides to try to salvage this wasted evening with a stroll up and down the block. It’s warm enough to be comfortable out, even at this time of night.

* * *

He loiters a little ways down the block, leaning against the corner of an alley and checking his email compulsively until the message arrives, in case by some miracle she changed her mind. When it does, he scrolls down, looking for _Kira._ But she’s not there, of course. Nineteen out of twenty, but not the only one that matters.

He’s not quite sure why she had such an impact. The rejection was memorable, of course – _that_ doesn’t happen often – but she had stopped him in his tracks even before that. He puzzles it over for a while and settles on trying to convince himself that she was nothing special after all. He thinks he might be making some headway until he looks up and sees her, and his heart does a little involuntary leap. _So much for that idea._

She’s about to walk right past him when he says, “Hey,” before realizing how creepy he looks. She visibly startles and glares at him.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

“My ride left without me. You?”

“Waiting for my Lyft.”

They stand in silence for a minute.

Finally she blurts out, “So you’re attracted to me.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re also an asshole.”

“Potentially debatable.”

“Oh no, that wasn’t a question.” She nibbles her thumbnail, apparently considering. She glances down at her phone and seems to arrive at some decision. “My ride won’t be here for another six minutes. Want to do something about it?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you want to fuck me.”

“What, now?”

“No time like the present.”

He thinks he might have had a stroke. Can people tell when they’ve had a stroke? Or maybe it’s rapid-onset psychosis and he’s hallucinating?

“So, what’s it going to be?” she says, snapping him back to reality. “Do you want me to make you come in this alley or not?”

 _Fuck, and Jesus Christ, and Fuck._ “Yes.”

* * *

She makes quick work of his belt and his fly, before she can reconsider. Before she can register exactly how crazy this is. When she pulls his cock out, he’s already half-hard and panting for her. She prods his chest in a silent command, and he shuffles back until his expensive suit jacket presses against the filthy wall of the deserted alleyway. She holds out her hand under his chin and orders, “Spit.” He obeys, never breaking eye contact.

It’s disgusting, and depraved, and the most insane thing she’s ever done in her life. But when she wraps her hand around the base of his shaft and ever so slowly slides it to the head, his breathing hitches in a strangled gasp, and she thinks, _perfect._ There is nowhere in the world she’d rather be than in this alley, with this man in her power and this cock in her hand.

She caresses the tip with her thumb before repeating the first stroke, more firmly this time. She’s mesmerized by the slide of his skin under hers but also mindful of the time, and she picks up the pace. When she glances up at him to gauge his reaction she’s surprised to find that he’s not looking down at his cock in her grasp; his eyes don’t seem to have ever left her face. As she pumps him faster, she can see beads of sweat gather on his forehead. It seems to be taking all the control he can muster not to rut into her hand - to stay stock-still and submit to her tempo.

 _He should be rewarded for that,_ she thinks. But then she remembers back to his previous behavior and smiles, as she decides to punish him instead.

* * *

Kylo is increasingly convinced that this is, in fact, heaven. He died somehow without noticing it, and heaven is an alleyway and this angel and her hand. He doesn’t know what he ever did in life to deserve such a reward, but he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever she gives him and he’ll thank her for it on bended knee.

It feels like her hand is connected to his brain. Somehow she knows exactly when to speed up, to increase pressure, to twist her wrist just so. And as much as he’d like to make this last for an eternity, he can feel the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching.

“Kira,” he chokes out, “Gonna come. I’m gonna come.”

She looks up at him and smiles wickedly, then she steps back and her hand is gone, and he’s left thrusting into the air and his cock lurches and strains toward her. “No, you’re not.”

He is bereft. Without thinking, he replaces her hand with his, _desperate_ to catch the climax hovering just out of reach.

“No,” she interjects sharply, and slaps his hand away. “You don’t get to come, Kylo. Do you know why?”

“I was an asshole.” _Please._

“Mm hmm. What else?”

“I didn’t show common courtesy.” _I’ll do anything._

“Maybe you’ll think about that next time, with the next woman.”

 _There will be no next woman, not ever. You’re it._ “Please. Kira.”

She glances down at her phone, still clutched in her other hand, and smiles up at him. “My ride is here. Have a good night, Kylo.” She steps forward and slowly, deliberately wipes her saliva-coated hand on the front of his shirt.

He’s frozen in place, pants around his knees, as he watches her go.

She turns back, just once, as she exits the alley. She grins, and it’s not until after she’s turned the corner that he hears her distant yell:

“Common courtesy!”


	2. Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THESE MOOD BOARDS THOUGH 😍😍  
>  _Many_ thanks to [Elafira](https://twitter.com/Elafira2) and [August Sun](https://twitter.com/AugustSun7).
> 
>   
>    
> 

Rose is upholding the _spirit_ of their agreement, Rey supposes, just not the _letter_. While the dishes are technically getting done, Rose isn’t doing most of them. Hux is. When she isn’t over at his place, he’s at theirs, and Rey very rarely has time alone with Rose anymore. It hurts more than a little, and Rey feels guilty that it hurts, seeing how happy Rose is.

It _is_ rather adorable to watch the fastidious Hux carefully don extra-long rubber dishwashing gloves that Rey is pretty sure he brought himself, because she and Rose wouldn’t own such a thing, to tackle a sink full of dishes while Rose sits on the counter and flirts with him by way of encouragement. Rose is always freezing, and Hux picks up on it quickly and starts wearing sweaters and jackets on all their dates so he can put them on her. Rey is pretty sure at this point that he’s just buying them in bulk, because Rose never gives them back, and she’s forever wearing something of his.

The hardest is when he stays the night. Rey’s bedroom shares a none-too-thick wall with Rose’s, and the sounds of sex aren’t the worst part. It’s the indistinct murmurs and soft little laughs that come after, while Rey lies alone.

They’re perfect together. And as the weeks go by Rey feels like she keeps losing her friend a little bit more.

* * *

She’s driving him crazy. Still. Kylo has lost count of the number of times he’s jerked off to the memory of that night. Whenever he takes himself in hand, all he can think of is her mischievous little smirk. The way she gave as good as she got, and then some. _Do you want me to make you come in this alley or not?_ When he erupts, it’s always, _always_ with her name on his lips. _Kira._

He wracks his brains to try to think of how to find her. He could contact the speed dating event coordinator, maybe, and fake some emergency, some reason why he needs her contact information. But they probably have pretty strict policies against that, to deter stalkers and crazy people. Maybe he can hire someone to hack into their system instead.

Maybe _he’s_ the crazy person.

He just needs to find her and fuck her and get her out of his system. The plan is basically foolproof.

* * *

* * *

_I miss you,_ Rey wants to say. But instead:

* * *

Rey gets to Hux’s place fashionably late. _Fashionably_ might generous, actually; she’s wearing her Saturday lounging yoga pants and a Care Bears tee-shirt. Hux and Rose answer the front door together, wearing matching aprons, and Rey immediately decides she’ll need copious amounts of alcohol if she’s going to make it through this evening.

She’s halfway through her second glass of wine when the doorbell rings, and Hux says, “Oh good, he’s here!”

“Who’s here?” Rey asks Rose in an undertone.

“Hux’s friend from work.”

“I did _not_ sign up for this,” Rey starts to say, but only makes it about halfway through, because Hux opens the door and _he’s_ standing there.

She was _not_ prepared for this, and when he stares over Hux’s shoulder at her she can feel her cheeks flush red as she remembers the state she last saw him in. Rock hard and straining.

“Kira?” he gasps, stupefied.

Hux bursts out, “Wait, _Rey_ is Kira!? We were just trying to set you _up,_ I didn’t realize...”

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” pleads Rose.

“Nope,” Rey says firmly. “Nothing is going on. We met at the speed dating thing. I used a fake name.”

“That doesn’t explain why...”

Rey quickly downs the rest of her wine and cuts Rose off. “Did someone say something about ribs?”

“They’re not quite ready yet,” Hux says.

 _“Great,_ why don’t you and Rose and your aprons go take a look at them while I have a quick word with _Kylo_ here,” she says, going over to the still-open front door. She grabs Kylo by the elbow and drags him into the apartment and down the hall into the nearest room, which happens to be a bathroom.

* * *

_Kira._ _It’s impossible._ He thinks for a minute he might be imagining her, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have imagined that Care Bears tee-shirt. When she drags him into the bathroom and shuts the door emphatically behind, his state of shock is replaced by arousal, which is slightly inconvenient.

“You _told_ him?” she whisper-yells.

“No! Of course not. I mean, I didn’t tell him _that.”_

“So why did he react that way?”

“I told him about everything else.”

“What’s everything else?” she whispers furiously.

“Why are we whispering?”

“Would you honestly put it past Rose and Hux to be listening outside the door?”

“No.”

“What’s everything else?” she repeats in a whisper.

“How badly I screwed up and wished I could see you again to have another chance.”

She scoffs. _“Have another chance?_ Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“While I’m completely on board with any random sex euphemism you make up, I actually meant have another chance to talk to you. To change your opinion of me.”

“You should leave.”

“Why?”

“Do you really think we’re going to get through this dinner amicably?”

“I can if you can. Common courtesy, and all that.”

She gasps. “Don’t you _dare_ —”

“Kids!” Hux’s voice right outside the door makes them both jump. “Everything okay in there?”

“Fine, out in a minute!” Rey hollers back brightly, then in a gritted whisper: “I swear to God, if you pull anything...”

“I’m just here for the ribs.” _And you._

As she wrenches the door open, he hears her mutter, “These had better be the best ribs ever.”

* * *

They _are_ the best ribs ever. Rey uses that as an excuse not to talk, just to devour. Kylo doesn’t talk much either; he’s too busy eating. And watching her. Rey had never really thought of ribs as a particularly sensual food before, but when he decides to suck some sauce off his finger with lips that have absolutely _no_ right to be so luscious, her pussy clenches around nothing and she gulps her wine and turns her attention to another rib.

Hux and Rose seem to have no problem carrying on a pleasant, dinner-appropriate conversation while simultaneously watching every move Rey and Kylo make. Rey feels like a zoo animal at feeding time. Not enough to stop eating, of course—the ribs are too good for that—but enough that the glances she gives Rose are more like glowers.

When dinner is over, Hux and Rose go to the kitchen and proceed to do the dishes more quietly than Rey has ever heard dishes done, presumably taking it in shifts to eavesdrop from right inside the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. She opts to adjourns to the living room couch, and Kylo follows.

“This was a bad idea,” Rey starts.

“What? Being set up? It wasn’t exactly our idea.”

“No, you staying,” she retorts. “You should’ve left.”

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.”

Rey doesn’t know herself why she’s so mad, and that frustrates her all the more. “I’m not mad,” she snaps.

“Clearly.”

“I just...wanted that night to be it. I didn’t want to see you again.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because...” He can’t seem to find the words.

 _Or make them up,_ she thinks. “Because I didn’t let you come.”

“No. Well, _yes._ But not only that. I still would’ve wanted to see you again if we’d never gone in that alley.”

She considers him for a minute. “How many women did you match with that night?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I don’t believe you. You know exactly how many.”

“Fine. Nineteen.”

 _“That’s_ why you wanted to see me again. The thrill of the chase.”

“That’s not true.”

She smiles knowingly. “Oh, of course.”

* * *

_Why can’t he make her understand?_ The English language once again seems to vacate his brain when she’s near.

Frustrated, he says, “Okay, so I matched with all the other women. But did you stop to think how that happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I made an absolute fool of myself, talking to you. Do you think I could’ve done that with everyone else and have them all still match with me?”

“I’m confused, you’re saying you were a jerk to me so that I’d reject you so you’d want me?”

 _“No,_ I’m saying that I forget how to talk around you. With everyone else I could be charming, but then I saw you, and...fuck, I’m not doing any of this right.”

She pauses a minute to consider. “You’re saying I make you _nervous,_ Kylo?” It goes straight to his groin.

“Yes.”

_“Good.”_

_Fuck._ He shifts uncomfortably, adjusting his erection. “As much as I would love to keep having this conversation, maybe we could continue it somewhere that’s not Hux’s couch?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Her tone is suddenly businesslike.

“What?”

“Just because you had a little crush on me doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t lose interest as soon as you fucked me. There’s still a part of you that likes me because you couldn’t have me. I’d rather leave it like it is now.”

“Rey. I don’t think it’s _possible_ for me to lose interest in you.”

“Sure, you _say_ that, but...”

“I’d rather you stop me from coming than have anyone else make me come.”

A little shiver goes through her at his words, and he sees it even though she tries to hide it. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then prove it. Now. At my apartment.”

_Thank God._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept my apologies for leaving you hanging and take comfort in the fact that the next chapter will be up tomorrow! 😘


	3. Instructions

Kylo drives them both to her apartment. Rey gives him her address and then stays silent throughout the rest of the drive, looking out the window. He wonders if she’s regretting this. His heart is racing, and his erection hasn’t entirely subsided ever since they left Hux’s place. He wonders what she’ll do to him. What she’ll let him to do her. He feels like this is an audition with the highest stakes.

He finds a parking space right around the corner from her apartment, and they walk side by side to her building, still not speaking. They climb the stairs to her fourth-floor walk-up and reach her apartment door. She unlocks it and goes to turn the knob. Kylo covers her hand on the doorknob with his and stops her. “Hey. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why?” she asks quickly. “Do _you_ not want to?”

“Fuck yes, I want to. But I don’t want to push you if you’re having second thoughts.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.”

She hesitates. “Just...thinking.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I’m ready to stop if you are. Stop thinking, I mean.” She opens the door, and he takes a deep breath and follows her inside.

* * *

He goes to kiss her, once they’re inside, but she turns her head so his lips land on her cheek. That isn’t what they’re here for. She kicks off her shoes, leads him to her bedroom, and turns on the lamp on the chest of drawers.

“Take off your clothes,” she says lowly, “and sit on the bed.”

He unbuttons his shirt quickly and tosses it aside. Without hesitation, he sits down on the bed and takes his shoes and socks off, then stands and starts unbuttoning his pants.

Rey just stands there leaning back against the chest of drawers, arms crossed, and watches. She hadn’t quite registered how big and wide and solid he was until expanses of him are uncovered. He pulls his pants off and tosses them into the pile with his shirt. All that remains are his underwear, tented by his hardened cock. Rey swallows. Kylo hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pushes his underwear down to his ankles, steps out of them, and kicks them aside. He just stands there for a moment, looking at her with heat in his eyes. Then he backs up until his calves hit the bed and he sits down. Watching her. Awaiting further instruction.

Rey uncrosses her arms and steps forward. She walks toward him until she’s standing in between his legs. His face is level with her breasts, and it’s tipped back to look up at her. Close up, she can see the black holes in his eyes, the way his pupils are blown with arousal. She reaches out with one hand to run her fingers through his hair, and he lets out a breath she didn’t realize he’d been holding. His hands come up to lightly rest on the outside of her thighs, and she shakes her head. “Put your hands next to you on the bed. Don’t move them until I say you can.”

He silently obeys, still looking up at her. She feels more powerful than she’s ever felt in her life: standing fully clothed while he sits there naked and at her mercy. She runs her fingertips over his shoulders, marveling at their width, and scrapes her nails lightly across his chest. He shivers. She steps backward, out from between his feet, so she can climb onto the bed at his side. She crawls around and kneels down behind him, so close that her breath warms the back of his neck. She snakes her arms through the gaps between his sides and his arms and runs her hands over his abdomen. Still on her knees, she shuffles a little closer, so her breasts brush his back. At the same time as she presses an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, she takes his cock in her hand. She can _feel_ him shudder.

* * *

She pumps him excruciatingly slowly. All the while, she licks and kisses and nips at his shoulder and the side of his neck, and he thinks he’ll probably come from just this. Just the feel of her mouth and her breath, and her hand stroking his abdomen, and the lazy glide of the skin of his cock in her grasp. His hands fist the bedspread, and his muscles ache with the strain of restraint.

“Tell me,” she murmurs. “Tell me how it feels.”

He can’t even think while she’s _not_ touching him; how is he supposed to think when she _is?_ He manages to say, “Good. So good. Rey. Please.”

“Please what?”

 _“Please.”_ He can’t stand it; he raises one of his hands to cover hers where it caresses his abs. Immediately, she pulls both hands away and moves backward, so that no part of her is touching him. He moans involuntarily at the loss.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands on the bed, Kylo?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t. I don’t think you deserve to come.”

“Let me...” he starts. His mind races. “Let me make _you_ come, then.” He’s still sitting where she left him, facing away from her so as not to disobey by turning around. He can’t see her face. She’s silent for a long minute. Then she crawls off the bed and comes to stand in front of him again. She searches his eyes for something.

Then, finally, she says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You have my permission to make me come. If you can manage to.”

“Oh, I can.”

“You seem pretty sure about that.”

He doesn’t bother to answer, just raises his hands to her hips, then slides them up slowly, under the hem of her tee-shirt. He takes hold of her yoga pants and her panties and tugs them both down together. He bends to push them down to her ankles and lets his lips brush her thigh. She steps backward, carefully extracting her feet from the clothes, and stands there naked from the waist down. He follows her as if pulled by a magnet, ending up on his knees at her feet. He looks up, and asks once more, “Okay?”

She nods.

* * *

He runs his hand down her left leg and lifts her knee, easily looping her bent leg over his shoulder. It almost knocks her off balance, and her hands fly down to his head. He steadies her by grabbing her ass with both hands, supporting her as she shifts her weight to lean on him. She’s entirely spread open to him, but before she has time to feel self-conscious, he begins.

There’s no warning before his dips his head and _devours_ her cunt. He inhales her wet folds with such fervor that she cries out, in surprise as much as arousal. Her fingers tighten in his hair as his tongue runs a firm, broad path from her opening to her clit. He loops his right arm under and around her raised thigh so his thumb can rub at her clit as his mouth moves back down. She holds onto him for dear life in the face of the onslaught, tugging his scalp, but he doesn’t complain. If anything it spurs him on more, and his tongue drives into her sopping hole again and again as his thumb increases the pressure on her clit. He frigs her furiously, his hand almost vibrating with the speed, and she couldn’t stop the orgasm if she wanted to: she’s coming and _coming,_ and her breath stutters and her vision whites as her legs tense and twitch.

He carries her through it, physically supporting her with the arm looped under her leg and the other locked around the small of her back as her own muscles stop holding her up. His thumb stays on her clit, rubbing slow circles as his tongue laps at her through the aftershocks. She’s left bent over him, her fingers still tangled in his hair. Finally, he gently lets her thigh slide off his shoulder and helps her foot find the floor again. He takes hold of her hips, either to make sure she can stand or just because he doesn’t want to let go, and looks up at her as she stands over him panting and trembling.

“Okay?” he asks.

She huffs out an incredulous laugh. _That’s an understatement._ She’s never felt this before with another person, such simultaneous abandon and security. “That was...fine, I guess,” she teases.

He stands abruptly. “That was more than fine,” he insists, searching her eyes. “Admit it.”

She can’t resist. “It was perfectly acceptable, I suppose.”

“I’ll show you _perfectly acceptable,”_ he growls playfully, and he lunges for her and tickles her until she’s doubled over with yelps and mirth. He follows her down, and they both end up on the floor in a heap of laughter. When they finally catch their breath, they’re sitting side by side against the foot of the bed, and Rey doesn’t even think before leaning over to kiss his mouth. She tastes herself on him as he deepens the kiss then pulls her into his lap so she’s straddling him.

Her hands clutch his upper arms as he kisses down the column of her throat, and she murmurs, _“Kylo.”_ She’s surprised when he stills and pulls back to look at her.

“Would you call me Ben?” he asks.

“Why?”

“That’s my name, my real name.”

“Why do you go by Kylo?”

“It’s felt more...right, for a long time. But there’s something about being with you that makes me feel like Ben again.”

“Is that a good thing?” she asks hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They just look at each other for a minute, then Ben slowly smiles, and his smile is like a gift. It’s a while before Rey remembers that she’s half-naked on his fully-naked lap. She blushes and glances down at his cock, saying, “Do you want me to...”

“No,” Ben replies quickly.

“But...”

“I meant what I said. I don’t need to come.”

“But after you...”

“Rey,” he cuts her off. “I’m going to get dressed now, and I’m going to ask for your number and kiss you goodnight, and then I’m going to leave. If you want to make me come you’ll just have to see me again.”

She slowly nods, then climbs off his lap and sits on the bed as she watches him dress. Once he has all his wrinkled clothes on, he unlocks his phone, opens the contacts, and hands it to her in a silent request. She stands, takes it, and enters her number, then hands it back to him.

He tentatively cups her cheek with one hand and starts to bend down to kiss her. Just before their lips meet, he pauses and asks, “Okay?”

She smiles in spite of herself. “Okay.”


	4. Expectation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be obsessed with these gorgeous mood boards by [Elafira](https://twitter.com/Elafira2) and [August Sun](https://twitter.com/AugustSun7), who are _far_ too good to me. 
> 
>   
>    
> 

It’s not even half an hour later, when her phone rings from an unknown number. She answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Ben. When can I see you again?”

“You know you just left my place like twenty minutes ago, right? If you want to get off so badly, you can just come back over.”

“Jesus, Rey, don’t tempt me.” His voice is low and gravelly. “I want to do this right. I want to take you on a date. If you would be open to that.” She doesn’t answer right away. She can sense his uncertainty as he says, “I don’t want to presume, if that’s not what this is.”

“Tell me more about this hypothetical date. Would it include sex?”

“God, yes.”

“Would you let me make you come this time?”

“If you want to. Go out with me. Friday night?”

“Are you sure you can wait until then?”

“No. Not even a little bit. But I want to try.” There’s a silence that stretches on as she thinks. Finally he asks, “Are you still there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, to the date?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then.” She can hear the relief in his voice, and it squeezes her heart a little.

“Good night, Ben.”

“Sleep well, Rey.”

* * *

For most of the next couple days, Ben can’t stop smiling. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way about someone, and a voice in the back of his head says, _Never. You’ve never felt this way, ever._

He hadn’t thought of himself as superstitious, but this almost feels _too_ good. He finds himself wondering whether he’s reading too much into everything, whether she felt what he felt or whether he’s getting way ahead of himself. Because he’s letting himself imagine things and want things that are definitely too much, too soon, after a grand total of zero dates. He decides he is a crazy person, after all. But he still can’t help his grin.

Around 10:30 on Monday morning, Hux lets himself into his office, assuming an overly casual air. Ben pretends to be working, schooling his face so as not to give anything away.

Hux leans against the arm of the couch and says, “So, funny story. I walked by your office a little while ago and I heard _whistling_. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“I can’t imagine what that could’ve been, maybe you have a brain tumor.”

“I also noticed that you and Rey left at the same time on Saturday night.”

“Huh, what a coincidence. Maybe we both got tired of Rose’s and your sickening sweetness at the same time.”

“One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Kylo, REY IS KIRA. WHAT THE HELL.”

 _“Shhh,_ keep your voice down!”

“We _knew_ you two would be perfect together! And she’s your freaking mystery woman! What happened? Did you go home with her?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Come _on,_ I tell you about Rose.”

“I don’t _want_ you to tell me about Rose.”

“Just tell me whether you kissed.”

Ben can’t help it, the goofy grin that spreads over his face.

“I KNEW it!” Hux picks up a pillow from the couch and whacks him over the head and shoulders with it repeatedly. “I fucking _knew_ it!”

 _“Ow,_ stop, yes, fine, you’re right!” Ben protests, covering his head with both arms.

Having vented his feelings, Hux finally stops his attack and tosses the pillow aside. “I’m just saying, it’s like fate. The one woman who doesn’t match with you. You’re obsessed with her, and you have no way of ever finding her again. And she turns out to be my girlfriend’s _roommate.”_

“I know, okay? It’s crazy.”

“It’s _perfect.”_

Ben can’t disagree. And he can’t stop smiling.

* * *

On Tuesday night, Hux is working late, so Rose stays home with Rey for the first time in weeks. They make dinner together and eat it snuggled on the couch, and Rey is surprised how easy it is to slip back into the normalcy of a time when she had this, all the time.

Rey does give Rose credit for self-restraint: she goes a solid hour before broaching the subject. “So, Kylo, huh? I didn’t realize you two had a thing going at speed dating.”

“It wasn’t a _thing._ It was...a weird, obnoxious interaction.”

“But not obnoxious enough for you to leave when he showed up on Saturday?”

“Hey, I was promised ribs, and I was going to get my ribs.”

“I’m just saying, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. That boy didn’t take his _eyes_ off you.”

“I never planned for this to happen,” Rey bemoans.

“I know, sweets,” Rose says, soothingly petting her hair.

“I just wanted to give him a hand job in an alley and never see him again.” Rey takes a bite of chicken.

“Wait, _what_ now?”

“That’s not important,” Rey waves her fork dismissively. “The salient piece here is that this wasn’t something that I wanted to happen.”

“Okay, we’re definitely coming back to the alley thing later. But just because you weren’t expecting this, doesn’t mean it won’t make you happy if you let it.”

“Does Hux make you happy?”

Rose smiles a sage little smile, like she knows some secret that no one's told Rey. “Yeah, but that’s not how I knew this was right. He makes me feel...more like myself.”

“I don’t know what that feels like.”

“Just because you haven’t felt it doesn’t mean you never will. Just...be open to it, in case?”

Rey puts her empty plate down and cuddles a little closer to Rose. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

Rose wraps her arms around her. “And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

Ben doesn’t tell Hux about his planned date with Rey. He doesn’t particularly want to be pummeled exuberantly with a pillow again, but more than that, he doesn’t want to jinx it, which he thinks saying it out loud might do. Instead he plans. The forecast says the weather will be beautiful—a perfect spring-on-the-cusp-of-summer day—so he decides on a Mediterranean carryout picnic in Schenley Park, on a hill where he remembers his dad used to take him.

He texts Rey: not too often, just once a day. Little innocuous messages. “Good morning” or “I hope you’re having a good day” or “Nice weather we’re having.” Usually, in reply, she just sends a random non-sequitur emoji. A ping-pong paddle. The Greek flag. A paper clip. Some grapes. He fucking loves it.

He thinks about that night a lot. He thinks about what she would have done if he’d let her make him come. Whether she would’ve used her hand, or her mouth. Or maybe her perfect cunt, that she’d deigned to let him feast on. But no matter how many times he imagines it and plays it out differently in his head, he never regrets how it actually happened. Because now he has an excuse to see her again.

He wants what Hux has, he realizes, though he’d never tell him. He wants to see her again, and then again and again, and so often that one time blurs into the next and he doesn’t need to keep count of how many times because the next one is never more than a day or two away. Until her things are at his place and his are at hers, and she needs to see him if only to come by and grab her purse that she forgot and kiss him quickly on the corner of the mouth on her way back out.

It occurs to him at some point that he might be falling for this woman.

* * *

Rey doesn’t want to be excited for their date. She doesn’t want to let herself attach any emotion or expectation to it, really, because if she doesn’t then she can’t be disappointed. She wants to approach the date like she tries to approach life: cheerful and open and unattached. So she sends him nonsense emojis and she doesn’t plan a cute outfit, she just throws on jeans and a tee-shirt and flip flops, because if he wants to spend time with her, he needs to get used to the fact that this is what he’s gonna get. She wants to give him as many outs as possible, so he can take his promised orgasm and then delete her number and leave her to live her life unperturbed.

As she gets dressed, though, the nagging thought assails her that he didn’t mind the yoga pants and Care Bears when he ate her out. She might be in a little bit of trouble. Not too much, for now, but it could turn into more if she goes home with him and she makes him come and maybe he trembles and says her name when he does.

 _It’s fine,_ she decides.

She's okay. For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops? I meant to write smut? And then this happened instead?
> 
> I'm projecting seven chapters at this point, with updates at least every other day. You all are wonderful. 💛


	5. Trembling

By mid-afternoon on Friday, Ben realizes he’s made a colossal mistake. Choosing a picnic as their date means that he’ll have to actually carry on a conversation with Rey, which he doesn’t have the best track record with. Their most successful talk lasted about two minutes and happened when she was half-naked on his lap, and he doesn’t think he can ask her to take her pants off at the park. Public place, and all. There are kids there.

Now that it’s too late to do anything about it, his brain obnoxiously supplies all the superior date options he could’ve chosen. A movie. A baseball game. A play. He’d go to _Disney on Ice_ if she wanted, if it meant he could spend time with her without the pressure of constantly making his brain and his mouth cooperate with each other. But they’ve already agreed on where and when to meet, and he’s already pre-ordered carryout and bought a picnic blanket. (He went back and forth for a long time between polka dots and stripes, and finally decided she would like the stripes better.) There’s nothing for it but to pray that by some miracle, he can actually think straight in her presence. For the first time ever. For multiple hours.

And if _that_ pressure isn’t enough, the other thing nags at the back of his mind no matter how much he tries to suppress it. _Would you let me make you come this time?_ He has zero confidence that he won’t get hard the minute he sees her, considering what he has reason to think might await him at the end of the night. He makes a mental note to choose a patch of grass out of easy visual range of other park-goers.

A picnic was a very bad idea.

* * *

She gets there a few minutes early, but he’s earlier. She sees him before he sees her, because he’s busy arranging carryout containers. And real dishes and silverware. On a teal and yellow striped blanket that still has the store tags attached to the corner. Her heart twists a little bit, and she’s reminded why this might be problematic.

She climbs the hill toward him, and he doesn’t notice her until she’s close enough to say, “Hi, Ben.”

He startles and gets to his feet quickly. “Rey! You’re here! Did you find it okay? I mean, obviously, you found it, you’re here. Here you are. Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“What? Why do you ask?”

“You jumped about a foot when I said your name. And now you’re acting like I walked in on you kicking puppies or something.” She’s pretty sure he’s sweating.

“I just want this to go well. To make up for...” he makes a little jerky gesture with his hand “...everything.”

“Well, the food is a good start.”

“Oh good, you like Mediterranean? Because I know it’s not for everyone, and I was thinking about Chinese instead, but then I remembered how much you liked the ribs and...”

She steps forward and cuts him off with a swift kiss to his cheek. “Ben, I’m going to need you to calm down. If this is about the sex, you don’t need to worry. We can actually go back to your place now, if you want.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” he groans. “I want to feed you. First.”

“I can think of something else I could put in my mouth,” she answers slyly.

He sits down, decisively. Rey wouldn’t absolutely swear to it in court, but she’s pretty sure he’s hiding an erection. “Rey. Sit down. Eat food.”

“Okay, Tarzan,” she teases, obeying. He looks confused, or maybe hurt, and it pricks at her. “I wasn’t making fun of you, Ben. This looks great. And I’m really hungry.”

He relaxes, just a bit. His rigid muscles un-tense about 15%. “Okay. Good.”

* * *

They talk about things. Little safe things, like his job and her job and where they each went to school. First date things. Not than Ben goes on first dates, really, but he’s pretty sure this is how they’re supposed to go.

She eats a lot, and with gusto. She eats until he can see the curve of her stomach protrude, and it _does_ things to him. As the sun gets low in the sky, she leans back on her hands on the blanket on the hill and watches the sunset. She points out the colors to him, like he can’t see them for himself. It’s his new favorite thing.

The sun disappears and the first star appears, and they’re both lying down on the blanket, side by side. It’s easier to talk this way, when he doesn’t have to look at her. He can just watch the sky turn from periwinkle to plum and listen to her voice.

There’s a comfortable lull.

Ben surprises himself when he says, “My dad and I used to come here.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It was his favorite place in the city. I think.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. But this is where I remember him being the happiest.”

“Is he still alive?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.” They just lie there for another minute in silence. Then she says, “Neither are my parents.”

He turns to look at her profile. She’s still staring up at the sky. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

He turns back to look at the sky, which is deep blue velvet now, and he can’t see any stars for the blur of unshed tears.

“Ben?” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for telling me that.”

The tears spill over, and he can see the stars again. It takes him a minute, before he can say, “Rey?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you too.”

“Good.”

Her hand creeps over to find his, and they lie there until the moon rises.

* * *

It’s getting cold, when she finally rolls over until she’s lying half on top him and she takes his face in her hands and kisses him gently. His hands come to rest on her back, lightly stroking up and down. When she finds tear tracks by his eyes, she kisses them too, and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of her head. He’s trembling a little: shivering, she thinks. So she nestles her face in the crook of his neck and moves her hands from his face to his upper arms to rub them like her mother used to do to her when she was cold.

“Rey,” he says, and she stops rubbing but stays burrowed into him.

“Hmm?”

“I think we should go home.”

“Mm hmm.”

“To my home.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Not for sex. I just don’t want to be apart from you yet.”

She lifts her head up to look at him but doesn’t answer right away, and he searches her face in the scant moonlight.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Okay.”

* * *

She falls asleep in the car, and he has to wake her up to lead her inside. He lets them in, and she follows him sleepily upstairs to his room. She’s just awake enough to pull off her jeans before she crawls under the covers. He changes into a tee-shirt and pajama pants and gets in next to her, and by the time his head hits the pillow she’s already asleep. He follows after her without a thought.

* * *

She’s not used to sleeping with another body in the bed. When she turns over and her arm touches something warm and alive, her brain sounds the alarm and wakes her up. Ben hadn’t closed the curtains, and a streetlight outside illuminates the room. As she watches him, he stirs uneasily in his sleep and suddenly wakes, as if her gaze had physically touched him. He turns and sees her awake, and she reaches for him.

The heat that had left with the sunset returns, now.

There’s nothing in the world except them. Except this. His mouth on her skin. The feel of him on her, in her, surrounding and enveloping her until she knows she could live in his warmth forever and never ask for anything else. She comes and comes again, but still, when he finishes with a quiet shudder and a “Rey,” it’s too soon. After he collapses on top of her, she wraps her arms and legs around his back and locks them there, and she can’t really breathe very well, but oxygen is a secondary consideration right now. She only realizes later that she’s crying, when he kisses the tears from her cheeks.

She doesn’t let go until he hardens inside her again, and then she lets him roll them over so she’s astride him, but still he doesn’t make her do the work: he sits and pushes up into her with little thrusts that are so shallow because he can’t bring himself to lie down and leave her. He does it all for her; she can just stay there and take it and when he kisses her wrist and her eyelids and her throat she’s lost, and found.

_More like myself._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...did not expect this. But I love it, a little. ❤️
> 
> This story ended up being set in Pittsburgh. [This](https://live.staticflickr.com/919/42529719024_e98a319352_b.jpg) is Schenley Park.


	6. Realization

It’s early, when he wakes. The first pale light of dawn is just starting to filter through the window. The streetlight hasn’t gone out yet.

If someone had told him 24 hours ago that _this_ would happen, he couldn’t have believed it. It would’ve strained his credulity—all his powers of hope and imagination—past the breaking point. But now she’s _here_. She’d shared herself with him. And not just her body. She’d let down walls that he would’ve counted himself eternally lucky just to loiter next to.

He’s torn between the desire to touch her and to watch her sleep. She sleeps on her stomach, her hair a mess of tangled waves. Her head is turned toward him but nestled into the crook of her arm, so he can’t see much of her face. He can only just glimpse the smallest bit of the swell of her breast underneath her. He could so easily reach out and run his hand over the soft underside of her arm, or the edges of her shoulder blades where they peek out from above the sheet. But instead he lets her sleep, and watches her.

He didn’t spend nearly enough time touching her, last night. While she let him, he should’ve memorized the feel of the muscles in her thighs. He should’ve rubbed his nose and his lips along the undersides of her breasts. He should’ve splayed his hands over her ribcage and traced his thumbs along the shallow valley in the middle of her abdomen. Maybe, if she let him, he could still do all those things. She might wake up and blink a couple of times and smile and reach for him again, and this time he’d do it right. Maybe he’d bring her off with his mouth first, so she’d lie there sated and pliant, and allow him to touch her everywhere he wants. Which is _everywhere._

He hardens involuntarily, thinking about it, and feels like a creep for the first time since he started watching her sleep. He tries to physically will his cock down, but he’s having a hard time looking away from her so it doesn’t work until he closes his eyes. He thinks back to the gradient of the night sky as they lay on the picnic blanket. He thinks of the slope of the hill under his back. He thinks of playing on that hill as a boy, and of not needing to constantly look over to check whether his dad was happy because on that hill, he always was.

That’s what he wishes for Rey, he realizes: that she always be happy. With or without him. Forget the full range of human emotions—nothing should ever make her sad or angry or disappointed. She should be life’s darling; the world should dote on her. He wishes he could keep her in his bed forever—not even to touch her, just to cocoon her in sheets and be a physical shield between her and the world’s hurts.

_I love her._

The realization comes not as fireworks, like he probably would’ve expected if he’d thought to expect it. There’s no surprise. It’s just a warm, calm, unshakable certainty, as if he’s known it forever and just now remembered.

* * *

When she wakes up, she has that momentary confusion that comes with waking in an unfamiliar place. Before she remembers where she is, all she knows is she feels safe. When she remembers, she tenses momentarily. They didn’t drink last night, but she finds she has to go back and deliberately search each piece of her memory as if she’d gotten drunk. Lying on the blanket. Telling him about her parents. Him moving inside her. His tears, and hers.

She feels a profound sense of loss and isn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it’s grief for a time before she needed someone. Because she needs him now, and she doesn’t want to. She wants to be able to just put her clothes on and easily walk out like she’d planned when it was just going to be an orgasm.

She needs air. She looks around, and she’s alone in the bedroom. She gets up, still naked, and walks over to the window. It sticks, but she’s able to open it a few inches at least, enough that she can crouch down and breathe in the outdoors. The lungfuls don’t steady her as much as she’d hoped.

She rips the sheet from the bed and wraps it around herself haphazardly, and it trails behind her as she goes downstairs in search of him. She hears him before she sees him. He’s in the kitchen, in a tee-shirt and boxers, whistling over the sound of something sizzling on the stove.

She stands there for a minute, watching him, before he turns and sees her. His face lights up, and he immediately puts the spatula down and comes over to her. She grabs his shirt and pulls him down to kiss her. She’s quivering, and she deepens the kiss so he won’t notice.

“Upstairs,” she breaks the kiss long enough to say.

“I have bacon and eggs on the stove,” he protests, even as his hand wanders down to her ass.

“Turn it off.”

He hastens to obey, and she runs up the stairs without waiting to see if he’s following. He arrives just after, panting a little, and goes to kiss her again, but she turns away. “Sit on the bed.”

Now he realizes something’s amiss, but he doesn’t question, he just looks at her for a minute. Then he slowly goes over and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Against the headboard,” she says, and he follows her instruction. He looks like he’s steeling himself for something.

She watches him for a long moment before she says, “Take off your clothes.” He obeys, but slowly, pulling his shirt over his head and awkwardly shimmying his boxers off. He tosses them aside and waits for her. It’s only then that she stalks over to him, still wearing the sheet. She climbs onto the bed and kneels next to him. His breath catches as she wraps her hand around his cock. She doesn’t look up at him as she sets a slow, punishing pace, because she knows that he’s looking at her, and she can’t be looked at right now.

“Rey,” he breathes, as she picks up the pace. Before she lets herself think, she leans down and closes her lips around just his cockhead, while still stroking the shaft with her hand. “Rey, Rey, Rey,” he chants, and she’s not even sure if knows he’s saying it. “Gonna come. Rey.”

She pulls her mouth and hand away, and she kneels up and looks at him. The unspoken question hangs suspended between them. He doesn’t move or protest, he just looks at her.

She unwraps the sheet from herself, and it pools around her as she straddles him. She reaches down to put the tip of him just barely inside her, and then she reaches out for his hands. He offers them, and she raises them to either side of his head and pins his wrists against the headboard. _Now_ she looks at him, and as she looks she lowers herself all the way down onto him. She holds her breath as she lifts herself up and tightens her grip on his wrists. She’s not even halfway down again before he’s pulsing inside her, and she impales herself on him and squeezes his cock with her cunt until he’s milked dry. It’s only then that she lets go of his wrists because she’s shaking too much, and she covers her face with her hands and buries it in his chest.

He doesn’t ask, he just wraps his arms around her and holds her as tightly as she’d held him in the night. He presses his lips against her hairline and waits until the shaking stops.

Only then does he kiss her cheek and quietly ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t leave me, okay?”

He tilts her head up with both hands, so she can’t help but look in his eyes.

_“Never.”_

* * *

He throws away the ruined breakfast and cooks a new one. They sit at the kitchen table and don’t talk much as they eat. She looks up at him sometimes, and when she does she gives him a quick, bright, private smile. He doesn’t wash the dishes afterwards, he just piles them all in the sink and kisses her and leads her back upstairs.

He strips her naked and touches her, then, and she lets him. He slowly unwraps the sheet she’d put back on, and he lays her down gently and does everything he wanted to, until there’s barely an inch of her skin untouched by his hands or his lips. She lies quietly and watches him. It almost isn’t even sexual, the way she watches him as he explores her, mapping her body. It isn’t until he reaches the apex of her thighs and nudges them apart that her breath quickens. He lies down on his stomach between her legs and traces first her outer then her inner lips with a feather-light touch, marveling at her. When he lowers his mouth to gently taste her, she moans a keening “oh” that he’ll never, ever forget, even if he lives to be a hundred. He slowly sucks her folds into his mouth, his nose nuzzling her clit, and then pulls back and gathers her wetness with one finger and smears it away again and again for the pleasure of watching her body make more for him. She won’t come from this, he knows, but he prolongs it anyway, as long as she lets him. Finally she tugs at his hair to pull him up to her, and he drags his cock over the hole that knows him now before pushing inside. She smiles at him and as he starts to move, she whispers praise in his ear: for his mouth, for his cock, for his arms, for the way _you make me feel so good, so good, Ben,_ and he could live on just this. He can barely hold out for the stuttering clench of her around him before he follows her over the edge.

This time, when he collapses on top of her, she laughingly protests and shoves at his chest where it lies crushing her. He finally lets her push him off, and he rolls onto his side as she turns onto hers to face him.

“So what do you think, should we report back to Rose and Hux?” she asks, and he chuckles.

“They _would_ be hurt not to be our first call.”

“You should probably have them over to dinner.”

“That would be the polite thing to do,” he answers without thinking, watching the way her hair cascades onto his pillow.

“Common courtesy, really.”

“Exactly,” he responds abstractedly, reaching out to touch a lock of hair.

“Good!” she exclaims, rolling away out of arm’s reach and grabbing her phone from the nightstand. “I’ll text them now!”

“Wait, what?”

“Why do I have the feeling you weren’t listening to me?” she asks, in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of Hux.

“If I’m having dinner with anyone besides you, I’m going to need you to spend every minute between now and then in this bed.”

“Oh?” She grins. “What will you do if I don’t?”

He darts out to grab her, but she’s faster, dashing naked from the room. He gives chase through the house until he corners her, panting and laughing, in the kitchen. He lunges for her and she shrieks in surprise as he throws her over his shoulder. She laughs the whole way as he carries her back to bed.

* * *

She half expected Ben to call her bluff, but he doesn’t, so she really texts Rose and Hux to invite them to dinner. Rose’s reply in the affirmative for both of them comes about five seconds later, and Rey showers while Ben goes to pick up carryout. The doorbell rings as soon as Rey’s dressed, and she assumes Ben’s back and forgot his key, but when she answers the door she instead finds Rose and Hux on the doorstep.

“You’re...” she checks her wrist for a watch, but doesn’t have it on. “...like half an hour early.”

“In our defense,” Rose insists, hugging her tightly, “we didn’t come over the exact second that _you texted us from_ _Kylo’s house,_ so we should at least get points for that.”

“I _suppose_ so.” Rey jokingly rolls her eyes.

Ben pulls up just as they come inside, and he leaves the car laden with carryout bags. Rey runs out to help him, and as she goes to take half, he looks down at her and presses a quick kiss to her mouth and she thinks her heart may burst.

“Rose and Hux are here,” she says.

He glances up and sees the flutter of moving curtains. “You mean Rose and Hux are watching from the window?”

“Yep.”

“Then we should probably make it worth their while.” He sets the bags on the hood of the car and grabs her and kisses her _properly._ Rey’s hands snake up around his neck and she forgets for a minute that it’s just for show and loses herself in him. He finally lets go and Rey thinks she can hear Rose squealing in the distance. Although it might be Hux.

Ben picks up the bags as if he hadn’t just made out with her on the sidewalk, hands half of them to her, and follows her inside with a twinkle in his eye.

They’re accosted by a whirlwind of two.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened in my _life..._ ”

“I know, I know, what did I tell you!”

“You’re gonna make the _most_ beautiful babies...”

“You got her number all right! I owe you a hundred dollars, no, wait, you already paid me, so I owe you two hundred.”

“You have to tell me _everything..._ ”

“I bet you never thought the bet would end up like _this!”_

 _The bet?_ She looks over at him, and the laughter in his eyes dies as he sees her face. Something inside her goes rigid. She can’t listen anymore. She looks around for her purse, but it’s still upstairs. She turns and takes the stairs two at a time, and he runs after her.

“Rey, you have to let me explain...”

She rifles through the sheets on the floor and finds the purse.

“It was just a dumb bet, it didn’t mean anything...”

She pushes past him and goes back down the stairs. He follows.

“This has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

At the foot of the stairs she stops and turns around. “Congratulations, Kylo. You must be so happy.” She smiles a smile so brittle it could shatter, and it does.

She brushes past Rose and Hux and runs out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter (and happy ending!) tomorrow. ❤️


	7. Gambling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading on a phone, please turn it sideways to read Ben's letter. 💛

Hux is horrified. He keeps apologizing, and a few words filter through here and there: “I assumed she knew...so sorry...never would’ve joked...” but they don’t mean anything. Because she’s gone.

Ben turns around and walks upstairs, heedless of Hux and Rose. His feet are so heavy. He slowly enters the bedroom and kneels down by the bed, and the sheets smell like her. He buries his face in them for a minute, and it’s equal parts pleasure and torment. He lies down on the floor and curls up into a ball, like he used to do in bed when his parents were fighting late at night. He used to think if he could make himself as compact as possible and protect his heart it wouldn’t hurt as much. It didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

Maybe in the morning he’ll be able to think and plan and figure out how to fix it. But she took all his strength with him when she left: the Delilah to his Samson. And now he’s denuded and broken. So he lies there on the hard wood floor and waits for the sleep that doesn’t come.

* * *

Everything has an air of unreality at first. She finds a bus stop and gets on the bus and sits down like this is a perfectly normal evening, like her world isn’t crumbling. She hugs her purse and watches the twenty-something mom and her baby sitting across from her. The baby is just in that stage of fussiness that will soon turn into full-blown wails if he doesn’t get what he needs. Rey watches with detachment. They get off at the next stop.

She knows what she needs to do, but she can’t summon the strength to do it. She needs to start reminding herself of all the reasons she’s better off alone, better off not relying on people, because in the end she’s the only person who will always be with her. She needs to start rebuilding her walls. But she’s just so _tired._

She lets herself into her apartment, trying not to think about his hand covering hers on the doorknob. She goes to her room, trying not to remember the way he looked up at her with wonder as he sat on the end of the bed. She curls up on the bed, and she’d almost forgotten what it's like to lie on sheets that don’t smell like him. She wishes she could cry; that would make it easier. Instead she stares at the wall and tries to hate him. It doesn’t work.

It baffles her, how _earnest_ he seemed. His face was so open at times, so unguarded, and when he smiled irrepressibly at the sight of her or looked at her with aching tenderness, she thought it was real. She has to hand it to him, he’s a phenomenal actor.

It wouldn’t be so bad, if she’d stopped at any point. If she hadn’t told him about her parents. Or if she hadn’t gone home with him. Or if she’d gone home with him, but just given him a blowjob and left. Or if she’d stayed and had sex with him, but left in the morning. Or if she hadn’t eaten the breakfast he remade for her. Or if she hadn’t let him lay claim to her entire body with his mouth. The worst part is how much it seemed like he wanted all those things—not just the sex, but _her._ It made her happy to be generous with herself because she thought giving him her made him happy. And she wanted him to be happy. She _still_ wants him to be happy—that’s the perverse part. He’s an asshole and he hurt her and she’s furious with him, but she can’t bring herself to wish him ill.

At some point there’s a gentle knock on the door, and Rose’s voice says, “Rey? Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer. “I just want you to know that I’m here, if you want to talk. Whenever you’re ready, I can wait. I’m not leaving, okay? I’m here.”

 _That’s_ when the tears come.

* * *

At some point in the night, he must’ve wrapped himself in the sheet she left on the floor, because he wakes up smelling her, and for a wild half-second he thinks she’s here, and it was all a bad dream. The doorbell rings, and he realizes that must’ve been what woke him. It’s morning, and his arm has gone numb and his neck and back are killing him. The doorbell rings again. He rolls over with difficulty and lies there on his back, waiting for whoever it is to go away.

It rings again, this time accompanied by Hux’s voice: “KYLO! IT’S ME!”

Ben groans aloud. His car is parked outside, which means that Hux knows he’s home, which means that he won’t go away until Ben lets him in. He rolls over and gets to his feet with effort, feeling about seventy years old. The doorbell rings again as he’s walking downstairs, and Hux yells, “I WANTED TO COME AND APOLOGIZE AND TO TALK, BECAUSE I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU.” Ben shuffles toward the door, turns the lock, and pulls it open. Hux is still yelling: “I KNOW I SCREWED UP...Oh! Hi. Can I come in?”

Ben makes a little _feel free_ gesture and pads to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“You’re not looking so good, bud,” Hux says tentatively, following him.

Ben just grunts as he fills the coffee maker.

“I guess you two didn’t talk after she left?”

Ben rummages in the cupboard for a mug and doesn’t answer.

“You don’t need to answer, I can do all the talking. I’m so sorry for bringing the bet up, I hope you know I never would’ve done it if I suspected she didn’t know.”

“I know,” Ben says.

“You know what?”

“I know you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Thanks. Good.” Hux looks relieved. “So how are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re crazy about her.”

“Why do you think I’m crazy about her?”

Hux gives him an _oh please_ expression and says, “If the fact that you’ve been pining over her for weeks wasn’t an indication, or the fact that you’ve been on cloud nine since last Saturday, your full-on makeout session in the street may have given me a tiny inkling.”

Ben fills his mug and takes a sip, even though it’s too hot. “I can’t. I’ll just mess it up.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Cause when I’m with her, I can never say what I want to say. It comes out wrong.”

“You have it bad, man.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“Okay, you want helpful? Write her a letter.”

“A letter?” It hadn’t occurred to him.

“You don’t need to say things on the spot if you write them down instead.”

Ben takes another swallow of coffee and considers. “That’s not an entirely awful idea.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Hux deadpans.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go away.”

“I’m leaving. And Kylo?”

“Yeah?”

“You love her, right?”

“Do you love Rose?”

“Yeah.”

Ben takes another drink. “Yeah.”

“Good luck.”

“Hux?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Hux smiles a genuine smile, without a trace of irony. “You got it, bud.”

* * *

It’s after noon when Rey emerges. She goes to the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. She half expects to see some physical change in herself, but she’s still her. With messy hair and bags under her eyes. She splashes some water on her face and feels just a little bit better.

Rose is sitting on the couch, reading a book. She looks up when Rey comes out, and puts down the book and says, “Good morning, sweet. How are you feeling?”

Then Rey starts crying again, and Rose gets up and hugs her and gently guides her over to the couch, and she sits with Rose’s arms around her and cries it out.

When her sobs quiet enough, she chokes, “I thought he cared about me.”

“Oh, sweetness, of course he did.”

“But I was just a bet.”

“The bet wasn’t about _you_ —Hux told me. They made a bet about whether Kylo would get every woman’s number from speed dating.”

“I was the only one who he didn’t get. That’s why he went after me.”

“Rey, love, your brain obviously isn’t telling you this, so I’m going to. You are whip-smart and hilarious and gorgeous and caring, and Kylo would’ve pursued you bet or no bet.”

“You don’t _know_ that.”

“Okay, I don’t know with absolute certainty, I’m not inside his head. But I think you owe it to him to hear what he has to say.”

“What if he lies?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Rose counters.

They just sit there for a minute, and Rey rests her head on Rose’s shoulder. “I felt the thing,” she admits.

“What thing?”

“More like myself.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose says, tightening her arms around Rey. “You can’t give up on this.”

“I could.”

“Okay, so it would hurt to talk to Kylo and not have him convince you that he really cares, right?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Would that hurt more than having him convince you that he cares about you would make you happy?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. Let’s say there’s a 90% chance he genuinely cares, and a 10% chance that it was just for the bet, which first of all, I think are ridiculously wrong percentages: it’s more like 99.9% and .1%. But let’s just say. Nine out of ten Reys in parallel universes will end up with this wonderful guy, and one has her heart broken. Isn’t that worth the gamble?”

“I’m not a gambler.”

“I know, sweetness. But maybe that’s because the stakes haven’t been high enough before.”

Rey sits quietly for a minute in Rose’s arms, considering. “I don’t even know if he wants to contact me.”

“Leave that part to me,” Rose dismisses. “If he does, will you hear him out?”

Rey wipes tears from her chin with the back of her hand. “Okay.” She shifts in Rose's arms so she can look her in the eyes. “You know how important you are to me, right?”

“Of course,” Rose teases, “I knew before you did.”

“I’m sorry it took me a while.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, sweet.”

As she hugs Rose back, Rey’s heart is so full that she almost doesn’t care what happens with Ben. _Almost._

* * *

As soon as Hux leaves, Ben writes the letter. It only takes a couple drafts before he has the final version. It’s not perfect, but it says what he wants to say.

His phone buzzes.

* * *

His heart is hammering as he knocks on her door. He’s clutching the letter, and he’s pretty sure his clammy hand has left wet spots.

Rose answers the door. “Hey, come on in!”

He carefully wipes his feet on the mat and steps just inside, holding onto the letter with both hands. Rey is sitting on the living room couch, facing mostly away from him.

“Okay!” Rose says brightly. “I’m going out for a while, call me if there’s anything you need, Rey!”

Rey stands and turns, and his heart speeds up.

After Rose leaves, they just stand there for a long minute, watching each other, until Ben finally advances hesitantly. He walks up to her, maintaining a respectful distance, and holds out the letter.

“I wrote you a letter.”

She stretches out her hand slowly to take it. “Should I read it now?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t sit down again, and neither does he. She opens the letter and reads.

When she’s done, she swallows and looks up at him. Her expression doesn’t give anything away. “Is this true?”

He’s confused. “Yes?”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I...don’t have a good reason. I’ve screwed up a lot of things, but I mean every word of that letter.”

She looks down at the letter again, rereading part of it. She looks back up at him but doesn’t speak.

He says, “I know I’ve messed up and I’ve been an asshole, but do you think maybe we could start over?” He can’t keep the hope from his voice.

“No,” she answers quickly.

“Oh.” He should’ve seen it coming, but he’s not prepared for how utterly devastating it is. “Okay.”

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to start over, because I want to keep what we’ve had. If we start over, then you won’t have made me breakfast twice in the same day, or made me come, or told me about your dad, or planned a picnic with real _plates,_ or...” He walks toward her slowly, incredulously. “You won’t have told me that you love me.” He tenderly takes her face in his hands.

“Rey. I love you.” He kisses her forehead. “I love you.” He kisses her cheek, just below her eye. “I love you.” He kisses the corner of her mouth, then he pulls back to look at her.

She raises her hand to trace his lips with her finger. Then she lifts her eyes to his and says, “I love you, too.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because you’re _amazing_ and I’m...”

Her laugh bubbles out unexpectedly. “You can’t talk me out of it, Ben.”

“But I’m just saying...”

“I love you, okay? That’s that.”

He takes a quick breath. “Okay.”

She smiles. “Okay.”

She rises to her tiptoes, then, and when her mouth presses to his, the world rights itself.

* * *

In the wee hours, after he loves her over and over and over, they lie entangled and covered in sweat. She can barely keep her eyes open. He strokes her cheek with his thumb and she raises her eyes to his.

“Okay?” he asks.

She smiles softly. “Perfect.”

“Happy?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Okay.”

They don’t let go until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> Thank you _so_ much for coming on this journey with me. 💛
> 
> Some notes:
> 
> 1) This story is special to me because it marked a couple of firsts: my first full-on sex scenes beyond little snippets, and the first time I teared up while writing.
> 
> 2) This was a gift for [elle_vee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_vee/pseuds/elle_vee), but I feel like it ended up being _her_ gift to _me_ in astoundingly gorgeous comments that are an art form in themselves. Elle, you have enriched my life so much.
> 
> 3) The font for Ben's letter is [Paterson](https://www.fontspace.com/frozenoj/paterson), which is rumored to be based on Adam Driver's handwriting.
> 
> 4) If you're ever on the fence about leaving a comment on any fic, because you feel like you don't have something profound to say or it was posted a long time ago, _do it_. I can't even describe how happy getting comment notifications makes me as a writer. If you don't know what to say, feel free to just quote a line that touched you for some reason - that's one of my absolute favorite kinds of comments to get.
> 
> 5) Thank you so much to [Elafira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elafira/pseuds/Elafira) for sharing this fic with Russian Reylos through her translations, and to both [Elafira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elafira/pseuds/Elafira) and [August Sun](https://twitter.com/AugustSun7) for the exquisite moodboards. You are wonderful!
> 
> 6) I realized that my correspondence screenshots were not accessible to anyone using a screen reader, so I've added the content to the alt text for this chapter. Please accept my apologies for my delayed realization - let me know if you're using a screen reader, and I will gladly go back and do the same for previous chapters/fics!
> 
>   
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CeliaAnd2).
> 
> I can't thank you enough for the love. It never fails to amaze me that people take time out of their lives to read something my brain created. ❤️


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